


"Needless Ease"

by farad



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the M7 Daybook Second Bingo Prompt "Golf"</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Needless Ease"

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my tireless betas, Delphi, JoJo, and Huntersglenn. All mistakes and laziness are my very own.

_Trouble springs from idleness, and grievous toil from needless ease._   
Benjamin Franklin

 

The little room had been a horror. Josiah stood in the doorway, staring at the shelves lined with personal items, pictures, jewelry, books – parts of lives that were now gone. Parts of Chris' life that were gone.

 

Mementos of Chris' past, of the woman and child he had loved more than himself. The layout of the room, the look of it was as familiar as his own home. An altar, upon which sat things that were masculine – a razor, a string tie, a bow tie. An altar to Chris, he suspected. Nearby was a screen, which his mind instantly associated with the chancel, though there was no choir behind it. Instead, behind it were clothes, men's jackets and shirts and vests, then women's dresses and coats, elegant and rich, in colors that the spare light of the room blended to a dark mix of non-color. Not a chancel, then, perhaps a sacristy.

 

It was then, as he became aware that he was comparing this to a sacred place, that he pushed away, trying to keep his stomach from turning. If this was a place of worship, then it was profane, a place of evil. Whatever god had been worshiped here, whether by the misguided or one with intent, what had been done in its name was an abomination.

 

He stumbled down the hall, feeling as if he might retch on the fine carpet. Which was how he found himself in a different bedroom, the bed unmade, covers thrown back, clothes and toiletries scattered about. Someone had left in a hurry, leaving behind many things.

 

The room was cast in shadow, the curtains still pulled tight against the morning light, but a ray of sun speared through a crack, reaching a far corner where something caught the brightness and glittered just enough to get his attention.

 

It took him a few seconds to find the shape in the gloom, but when he did, he felt a cold, deep spike of anger. The silver of the metal seemed to glow, a reminder of his own distraction, his own weakness.

 

He stared for a time, hating himself and what he had allowed to happen, the woman's perfidy that he hadn't seen, the dire injury to a good friend. Then, bile roiling his stomach, he strode across the floor and caught up the heavy leather bag, slipping it over one arm and onto his back.

 

"Where the hell have you been?" Vin demanded as Josiah walked out of the house, down the porch stairs and across the yard to where the wagon and horses waited. Nathan was in the back of the wagon with Chris, his dark face drawn into lines of worry. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

 

Josiah didn't argue, but he took the time to walk past the back of the wagon, dropping his find in the corner, away from Chris and Nathan. As he settled it, he saw Nathan frown at him and start to argue, but Chris shifted and groaned, and the healer's attention left Josiah.

 

Vin, however, wasn't as easily put off. "What the hell are you thinking?" he asked, his horse prancing as he rode in close. "Ain't we had enough trouble without taking it back with us?" His eyes glittered, bright with anger and worry, his strong jaw clenched tight in frustration.

 

Josiah pulled himself onto the wagon, looking around to nod to Ezra who, with Buck and JD, was staying here to attend to the dead. Ezra nodded back, the message between them clear even without words: they would tend to their respective wounded, those bleeding from the chest and those from the heart.

 

Josiah caught up the reins then turned to look at Vin. "Best be getting on," he said carefully. "Gonna be a long ride."

 

For a second, Vin's anger blazed so bright that the blue of his eyes seemed to fade to a pale silver, sparkling in the morning light. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth as if to say something, then he must have thought better of it. Instead, he turned his horse hard about, trotting away from Josiah and across the open space toward the road.

 

Josiah clucked to the horses, letting them follow. Behind him, he heard the soft chink-chink as the metal of the golf clubs rattled against each other, a steady beat beneath the low sounds of Chris' pain.

 

*&*&*&*&*&

 

For a time, the clubs sat in the back corner of the nave, away from anything sacred. He hadn't actually planned for them to be there; it was where he had set them down at the end of that long damned day, after the interminable ride back to town from Ella Gaines' place, after hauling Chris upstairs to Nathan's and trying not to hurt him, after helping Nathan try to settle for the day.

 

The clubs had sat there for a while, so long that he'd stopped seeing them. Granted, he hadn't been in the church a lot; helping Nathan care for Chris, then going back to the Gaines' place to speak over the graves, had taken over a week. When Chris was well enough to get out of bed, they'd all taken turns watching over him while Vin and Buck had taken up the hunt.

 

It'd been almost a month before Nathan had wandered into the church one night and caught sight of them. "Why the hell did you bring those?" he'd asked, but his tone had been one of confusion, not anger. "You really liked golf that much?"

 

"Yes," Josiah answered with a sigh. "I did. Too much." He looked at Nathan and saw when the answer made sense to the other man. He'd always been able to talk to Nathan without having to explain.

 

"Inez has chicken tonight," Nathan said, mercifully changing the subject. "Want to join me?"

 

Josiah nodded, and they spent the evening in a lighter mood, Buck, Ezra, and JD joining them on and off before he made his way back to the church. But as he came through the front door, he looked over to the corner, where the metal reflected the light of the candles. The memory of that small room caught him, almost a physical stab in the gut, and he picked up the bag and slung it up and over his shoulder.

 

*&*&*&*&

 

"You still play with these?" Buck asked, his hand on the heads of the golf clubs.

 

Josiah stared at them, surprised that they were there, against the wall of the storage room of the church. "Forgot I had them," he said, feeling the stab deep in his gut. "Need to put them somewhere else." Somewhere he could see them.

 

Buck pulled at one, drawing it out of the bag. He held it out, looking at it. He'd been smiling, but now the smile slipped away and Josiah saw the tightness at the corners of his lips. "Whatever happened to him?" he asked.

 

Josiah didn't need to ask who 'him' was. The image of 'The Doctor' still haunted his dreams. "Been wondering that myself," he said. "Guess he took what he could and got out as soon as the shooting started. I've asked around, even sent some telegrams to other towns around us. No one seems to know anything about him."

 

Buck was still staring the end of the golf club. With a nod, he lifted it up and swung it around as if he were getting a feel for its weight, as if it were a sword. Then, easily, he twisted it in his hand and slipped it back into the bag. "Makes me feel sorta sick," he said softly. "Don't reckon there's anything wrong with the game, but all I can think about is her and what she did to Chris. What she did to Sarah and Adam."

 

Josiah nodded. "No game is worth that."

 

Buck stared for a minute at the bag then he looked to Josiah and nodded. "What else do we need to take outside for the wedding?" he asked, looking around the storage room and pointedly not looking at the golf clubs.

 

Later that night, after the wedding was over and the newlyweds were off to settle their new farm and the things from the church were returned to their proper places, Josiah picked up the golf bag, pulling it over his shoulder. It needed to be somewhere else, somewhere he could see it more often and remember.

 

*&*&*&*&

 

"While I am loath to offer an opinion," Ezra said, his voice giving lie to his words, "this is not where I would keep these." He reached out slowly, running one finger over the edge of one of the thicker clubs. "The elements are not kind to iron, not iron of this refinement."

 

Josiah sighed, staring at the damned bag of clubs. He had left them on the back stoop, outside the back door where he saw them every time he walked to the well or went for firewood. It seemed appropriate, when he was doing the menial, thoughtless work, to be reminded of the ways in which evil could be so tempting.

 

"Not planning to ever play again," Josiah said, lifting the ax once more. He was pleased with the 'thunk' it made as it slammed into the wood, splitting it easily in two.

 

"Then perhaps you should consider selling them, instead of letting them go to ruin," Ezra suggested. His words were slow, as if the idea were a passing suggestion and not the temptation Josiah knew it to be.

 

He lifted the ax three more times before the anger bled away and he could answer. "If I'd been paying attention to what was going on and not caught up with my own desires, things might have gone different."

 

Ezra put the club back into the bag and turned to look at Josiah. His expression was unusually flat, as if he were truly thinking about what Josiah said. When he spoke, the voice was not one Josiah expected – or knew very well. "Not one among us can claim otherwise. You may have been distracted, but you still had the good sense to save someone more lost to temptation than yourself. You don't need these to remember." He shrugged, settling his coat more firmly around him. When he spoke next, his tone was more familiar. "I believe Mary is holding an auction soon to raise money for the Widow's and Orphan's fund. Perhaps they could bring in a worthy price."

 

Josiah frowned, almost arguing, but the idea had merit. Before he could think of a reason to argue, Ezra touched his finger to the brim of his hat and turned away, heading across the alley toward the back of the saloon.

 

*&*&*&*&

 

"I thought you liked playing golf," JD said, frowning at the bag of golf clubs that Josiah had just set down.

 

"I didn't know you were a golfer, Josiah," Mary said as she stepped out from behind the counter that separated the front of the newspaper office from the machinery in the back. She held a pad of paper in one hand and pencil in the other, her white apron streaked with black ink. The next edition of her paper was due out tomorrow, and she appeared to be hard at work on it.

 

"What's golf?" Casey asked from her seat on the counter. Her legs swung rhythmically, just barely missing Josiah.

 

"It's a game," JD said, his voice distracted.

 

"A game?" Casey asked, leaning forward to stare at the clubs. "What do you do, beat each other to death?"

 

JD finally looked away from the clubs. "No," he said slowly, his tone exasperated. "You use them to hit a ball – like in baseball. But the ball is smaller and it's on the ground. Show her, Josiah."

 

Mary was counting the golf clubs, using the end of the pencil to touch the top of each one, but she looked up at JD's words. "Yes, Josiah, why don't you show us? I haven't seen anyone play golf since - " She stopped short and looked away, her eyes clouding with a memory that Josiah could only assume involved Stephen, her late husband.

 

It was that, the pain he didn't want to see, that spurred him to pick up the bag, drawing it away from her and the others. "Can't play in here," he said, desperate to get away from the situation.

 

"Then let's head out back," Casey said, dropping down off the counter with a thud. She pushed through the swinging door leading into the back of the store without a thought, her pig tails bouncing on her shoulders.

 

Josiah looked to Mary, not sure of this in many ways, but she was smiling, her notepad clasped against her chest. She glanced to Josiah, shrugged, and followed Casey. JD fell in behind her, leaving Josiah little choice but to go along.

 

The walk was short, too short for Josiah to come up with a tactful way out of this. As they came out of the back of the building into the alley way, Josiah caught sight of Chris and Vin behind the lumber shop, loading planks into the back of a wagon. He stopped short, the bag seeming to grow in weight and size.

 

"Chris, Vin!" Casey called, waving as she broke into a trot toward them. "Josiah's going to show us how to play golf!"

 

Josiah closed his eyes at the words, his memory dredging up the image of Vin that day just months ago, angry-eyed and stiff, of Chris laying in the back of the wagon, blood seeping through the white linen bandages Nathan had wrapped around the wound in his chest.

 

"Casey!" JD called, taking off after her. "Hold up!" But it was too late. When Josiah opened his eyes, he saw Vin looking at him, his jaw set in anger. He pushed the stack of boards into the back of the wagon then stepped back, wiping his hands on his pants. For an instant, Josiah thought that his right hand lingered near his gun.

 

Sensing the tension, or perhaps merely being herself, Mary stopped nearby and said, "Josiah's donating the clubs for the Widow's and Orphan's auction this Saturday. He was going to show us how to use them."

 

Vin glanced to her then back to Josiah. His expression softened a little, but he was still on edge.

 

Chris was still lifting wood, as if he hadn't heard any of this. It was only when Casey asked, "Either one of you play golf?" that he finally stepped away from the wagon, swiping his bangs out of his eyes before reaching for a worn bandana hanging out of his back pocket.

 

As he rubbed the sawdust off his hands, he turned to look at her, and past her to Josiah. "Donation for the women and children's fund?"

 

Finally finding his voice, Josiah said, "Reckon now isn't the best time - I need to get back to the church. Mary, I'll see if I can find something else to - "

 

"Sounds like the best thing for them," Chris said, his voice cutting through Josiah's words and the hubbub of the alley. "Can't think of a more fitting use for them."

 

Chris looked straight at Josiah and nodded once. Then he walked back toward the lumber shop, sticking his bandana back in his pocket. After a few seconds, Vin nodded to Josiah, too, and followed after Chris.

 

"Maybe you can show us later," Mary said, walking back toward Josiah. "I do need to get the paper out."

 

"But - " Casey started, standing with her hands on her hips.

 

"Come on," JD said, cutting her off. "Let's go see if Mrs. Potter has cookies – she said she was going to make up a batch."

 

Casey looked like she was going to argue, but then she looked at JD. Josiah wasn't sure what she saw there, but whatever it was, she sighed and her arms dropped away. She set off down the alley toward the back entrance to the Potter's store, calling over her shoulder, "We'll bring you back one, Mary! Next time, Josiah!"

 

Josiah drew in a slow breath, feeling as if he'd been in a gunfight and was standing on the other side of it. It was a relief to leave the bag of clubs in the corner of Mary's shop, and when he walked back into the church, the whole place seemed lighter.

 

*&*&*&*&*&

 

"How was the auction?" Buck asked as Mary passed by their table at the restaurant on Monday morning. "Turn out looked good."

 

Mary smiled at them, still pleased, it seemed, from the success of it. "It was very good. We had people coming over from Eagle Bend, Red Fork, and a few other places. The auction made almost $40, and we sold everything – though it was a near thing." She looked at Josiah. "It seems not many people around here play golf. The golf clubs were the last thing to go, and that was only after the auction was actually over. We were cleaning up, and Casey was trying to pick them up to put them in the wagon, when Chris said he'd take them. He paid $2 for them."

 

The biscuit Josiah was eating turned to sand in his mouth and he coughed, reaching out for his coffee cup. The coffee was hot enough to burn, bringing tears to his eyes as he managed to finally swallow. Beside him Buck asked, "Chris bought them?"

 

Mary smiled. " He said he was starting a collection of things to think about doing in the future." She looked away as Matilda, the restaurant's owner, stepped over with a covered basket of food. "Thanks," she said, taking it. "I's better get this over to the office, Billy's waiting for breakfast."

 

As she walked out the door, Buck said quietly, "Starting a collection. That don't sound good."

 

Josiah remembered the little room in that big house, the things spread out on the shelves. The profanity of that altar and the sacrifices that had been made in its name. He shivered.

 

"Course, knowing Chris, he's probably using them for target practice," Buck said lightly. "I'll ride out later and check on him, if he ain't shown up."

 

Josiah nodded, but as he looked out the window, the day seemed darker. The clubs had been his reminder of the ways in which he had failed, ways in which he had let his own desires blind him to the truth. But he'd avoided them, even to the point of no longer seeing them when they were right in front of him.

 

He wondered where Ella Gaines had gone and when she would show up again. Because she would, they all knew it. 

 

Giving the clubs to the auction hadn't been charitable; it had been a relief. That fact burned in his belly, bile under the biscuit he had eaten. He wondered which god's voice had called to him through those golf clubs, drawing them to town. Drawing them to another man. He wondered if it was still calling, but now to Chris.

 

 


End file.
